


Dead Silent

by Rainbow_Femme



Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: AU, Angst, M/M, So beware, numbers won't die this time, wrenchers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 19:27:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3180410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainbow_Femme/pseuds/Rainbow_Femme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU where it was Wrench who followed Malvo's blood trail instead of Numbers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Silent

**Author's Note:**

> I always wondered how it would have gone down if it was Wrench who followed Malvo instead of Numbers, and this is what came from that curiosity.

Wrench watched silently as his breath turned to soft opaque shapes in the frigid air, squinting through the blizzard for some sign of their target. High on adrenaline and fuming from failing to nail Malvo in his car, he was ready to kill the son of a bitch and be done with it. His fingers half frozen to the gun and the fringe of his jacket had begun to stick together, pissing him off even more. As he trudged silently through wind and snow, he sorely wished he had just listened to his partner and gone home when they had the chance. If he had just listened, they could have dumped Lester in a lake and been on the road by now. But no, he had tried to keep hold of whatever shreds of morality he still had left over one little confession. After he saw what the bastard had done to his partner out on the ice, he was ready to kill him just for that. When this was over, he swore to himself he would find a way to make the orange runt pay. He'd cut off that infected hand of his and feed it to him if he had to, no one could hurt Numbers and live to tell the tale. Numbers was happy to just forget it, say what they did to him in their shared cell was enough, laugh about the look on his face when Wrench gagged him with his old sock. But that couldn't be enough for Wrench, he wanted blood.

He frowned and quickly wiped the snowflakes from his face angrily. It was his fault they were out here in the first place. He started this, and he was damn well going to finish it. Numbers had gone off into the bleak white oblivion moments ago, and worry was already seeping in. Being unable to hear had never bothered him, but now being hardly able to see six inches in front of him was causing some serious problems, more than they usually allowed themselves to have. They were used to low risk jobs, killing off low lifes who couldn't tell an alibi from a hole in the ground, or a hole in the ice, as was usually the case. But nothing ever like this. They had never been so evenly matched with an adversary, or so at odds with the elements. It made him very uncomfortable, and he itched to be done with it, he itched to be sitting beside Numbers again on their way back to Fargo and the relative safety of their apartment.

He angrily trudged forward, stopping a moment to smile when he noticed a stream of blood on the ground. If the bastard was hit, weaker, put in a more defensive position, then maybe they weren't in as much trouble as he thought. Following the trail, he allowed himself some relief that this might be over sooner than he had thought. Sure it would be a bitch to find Numbers again in this weather, but soon they would be in a warm car, headed far away from here.

He walked quietly under a large overhang, frowning as the blood trail ended, he turned to see if he had missed something but was stopped as he felt an ice cold blade forced through his back. He cried out in pain and fury, his arm reaching around, trying to grab his assailant as the knife twisted painfully. He fired his gun uselessly before it dropped from his hand, suddenly too heavy for him to hold onto. His legs began to buckle and he fell to his knees, the knife pulling out before quickly stabbing in again, resulting in another cry, this one more pain than anger. Fear began to flood him as it became difficult to breathe, sure his lung had been punctured as he struggled to draw breath, still struggling against the man with a firm hold on him. He could tell the man was yelling something, trying to question him, obviously unaware Wrench couldn't hear him. As he felt more blood flooding out of him, he realized the man wouldn't leave until he had what he wanted, and Wrench couldn't give him that. Which meant he was going to die. In fucking Duluth. He could only furtively hope that Numbers was somewhere out there and could kill him before he too was caught. He couldn't entertain the thought that the maniac might try to go after him too once he had finished Wrench off...

-

Numbers growled under his breath as he tried to find his way through the storm. This had not been in the plan, and frankly, it was pissing him off. They had been running all over the godforsaken state trying to figure out who had killed some dip shit trucker who wasn't worth the frozen gum on the bottom of his show, no matter what Fargo said. He certainly wasn't worth trudging through three feet of frozen bullshit with even more dumping down by the second. He didn't want to admit it, but Wrench had been right and he had been wrong. Lester wasn't the way to go and he had pushed too much time and resources into grabbing him. If things had been reversed, he would have rubbed his partners nose in it that he was wrong, but Wrench had never said a word about it to Numbers, he simply worried over him, afraid there would be some latent damage form the tasering he had gotten out on the ice, and he was grateful for that. He was a rather sore loser, if he was going to be honest with himself, and Wrench always seemed to know when it was ok to push him and when he needed to be left alone. He rubbed agitatedly at his beard, frozen in the storm. That, he thought, was certainly something his partner would be teasing him about later.

He was about to turn around when he heard distant yelling and gunfire, and he could feel his heart sink. He knew his partner's voice. It was used so rarely that he'd imprinted the sound permanently on his mind for reference whenever he could. And he knew something had just gone terribly wrong.

Racing forward he was blind but he didn't care, all he could think was that somewhere, Wrench was hurt, and he needed to get to him. He came upon a trail of blood in the snow and he could have sworn that his heart stopped in his chest, panic setting in. He followed the trail, breathing hard, praying that the worst hadn't happened, that his imagination had gone away with him and he would find Wrench fine. Soon, squinting through the flying snow, he saw Wrench on his knees, a pool of blood growing around him, and there was Malvo, the hilt of a knife sticking out of Wrench's back as he twisted it angrily, eliciting quieter groans of pain from Wrench. Malvo was yelling over the wind, demanding to know who had sent them, completely unaware that he would never get his answer. Wrench saw him before Malvo did, quickly knocking his own head backwards, hitting the back of his skull on the bridge of Malvo's nose, causing him to jerk back, enough for Numbers to get a shot. Fury blinded him and he raised his gun, firing at the sack of shit who was hurting his partner. Malvo stumbled back and took off into the snow, holding onto a bloody hole in his thigh. Numbers couldn't take the time to care about him, no matter how much he wanted to chase after him and fire into him until his clip was empty. He sank to his knees in front of Wrench as he sagged forward weakly. 

"Wrench..." He took a shaky breath, terrified. He couldn't tell how bad he was hurt through the jackets but by the sheer amount of blood, he knew it must be bad. He helped Wrench lay back gently, his own hands shaking. He furiously tapped at his partners pale face, trying to make him wake up because god, he had to wake up... He tried to blink away tears building in his eyes, chiding himself for being stupid, tears wouldn't help anyone right now, especially when they would probably freeze to his face.  
"Come on, please, please, please..." He sighed softly when Wrench slowly opened his eyes, more blood pooling around him. He could only hope the cold could constrict the blood vessels enough to slow the bleeding, he needed to buy Wrench more time. He knew he couldn't sign properly to Wrench like this so he simply jabbed at Wrenches eyes and then his own, yelling so Wrench could hopefully read his lips. "Keep your eyes on me!" He glared at Wrench, making sure he was looking at him. "You. Not dying." He fumbled his cold gloved fingers through the words. Taking Wrench's face in his hands, he looked into his eyes and spoke slowly. "I'm not letting you die."

-

Wrench didn't think he'd ever been happier to see his partner in his life than when he saw him emerging through the storm, eyes blazing. Knowing Numbers wouldn't fire if there was a chance he would hit him, Wrench used the last of his strength to jerk his head back, hitting Malvo hard enough to hopefully break the bastards nose. He'd almost forgotten the blood filling his lungs as he swelled with pride, Numbers firing furiously at Malvo, making him run off with his tail between his legs. And no shoulder had ever felt softer than Numbers' as he sagged against him weakly, trying his best to stay awake, the cold seeming to seep down through his coats and into his bones, freezing him from the inside out. A small amount of warmth filled as two strong arms encircle him. He wasn't sure exactly how it happened, but soon he was lying on the ground, looking up at the swirling white sky and Numbers, his face pink with cold and wild with panic, and he swore those dark eyes looked moist. He gestured for Wrench to keep focused on him and he did his best to nod because he knew that was the best course of action, stay awake, stay alert, and hopefully stay alive. He could see that Numbers was trying to tell him something, but he couldn't make it out. Then his face was being held and he felt dimly surprised. Numbers was always very hands on with their targets, but the two of them rarely touched. It felt nice, until he remembered Numbers only did this with people he knew were going to die. That didn't help his racing heart. 

He watched his partner meticulously wipe down the knife after he pulled it out then freeze, looking up in the direction of the cars. He seemed to hear something he liked, a small amount of relief was visible on his face. He grabbed both of their guns and moved to hide them but stopped a moment to look back at Wrench, who could feel a light dusting of snow building up on himself, as if he were already being buried. Numbers took a moment to lunge forward and press a hard kiss on his lips before pulling back and holding up one finger, then taking off into the white oblivion. Wrench smiled softly to himself, his heavy eyes drifting closed. Despite everything, this might not end up being the worst way to die.

-

Numbers had begun to lose hope. There was no way he could carry Wrench back to their car, no way quickly at least. He was about to go get the car and bring it back when he heard the sound of distant voices. Straining, he recognized the voice of the deputy he had met briefly at Lester's office.

"What do you think happened?"

He frowned, ready to pull his gun if they snooped too far into their business, until he heard another voice say that maybe there had been an accident that lead to an argument, and relief flooded through him. He could use this. He grabbed both of their guns to quickly ditch in a dumpster, but was caught off guard by the sight of Wrench, laying in the snow and watching him, his large, soft eyes peaceful. He was the only one who got that look, the only one who saw the soft side of this brutal trained killer. Maybe it was the cold, or the adrenaline, or simply the fear that this was the last time he would have this chance, but he took his partners face in his hands and kissed him, squeezing his own eyes tightly shut. He told himself that he would explain later, that there would be a later, then held up a single finger where Wrench could see it, trying to tell him he would be back in a moment so he had to keep hanging on. Then he scooped up the guns and ran to an alley he had come across. He stuck the guns under a half buried pile of garbage and old newspapers, knowing no one would be plowing back here anytime soon, nor would they be looking back here at all, leaving ample time for the guns and any evidence to rust away, at least enough to be useless in any investigation into them. Then, he put on his best acting persona, and ran towards the voices.

"Help!" He waved his arms over his head, tugging at his scarf to make himself look disarrayed. He knew cops, and they couldn't help but be sucked in by someone helpless, and Numbers wasn't above playing the damsel in distress. Not if it would save Wrench. "Please, my friend, he hurt my friend!"

The deputy looked at him in surprise, recognition in her eyes. "What now?"

He took a ragged breath, allowing the fear and worry to fully hit him, trying to seem as sincere as he could. "I swear, we didn't see him in the storm! We got out to apologize for his fender, but he just went crazy! He stabbed my friend over there, I think it's bad, you have to help!" 

The man looked terrified and frozen to the spot, Numbers had no idea who he was, but the deputy ran back to her car and began radioing for an ambulance. He took another trembling breath and tried to go over what the next steps would be. Call Fargo, explain what happened. Everyone had a cache of emergency funds that could be wired to them in case of an incident, Wrench and Numbers had always been good about not needing to use it, as well as any necessary identification. Enough to hold up until they could get away and vanish back into anonymity. But every time he tried to go over it, he would think of his partner instead, worry that this was all too late, that he had made the wrong decisions and now Wrench would have to pay the price.

-

Wrench woke up blearily in a hospital, hooked up to machines and tubes and sore as all hell. Outside his room, he saw Numbers speaking with what looked like the female deputy they had run into before. That was good. Be recognizable enough to her to get sympathy, but not enough to be any more than another story of cop heroism down the road, no clear faces to tie back to. They were good at being just memorable enough to be forgettable.

Numbers walked in after a minute, noticing immediately that Wrench was awake. Wrench expected at most a friendly arm squeeze and a "Glad you're not dead," but instead he was enveloped in a tight embrace, the shorter man pressing his face into his neck. When it became apparent he was not going to be moving anytime soon, he carefully wrapped his arms around his partner, holding on tight. They had always been careful about affection, for years now. When there was always the chance that each day together could be your last, it was just good thinking to try not to get too attached to who you're working with. But for them, it had always been different. They couldn't avoid it if they tried, and tried they had. But it simply couldn't be helped, they were two halves of a whole, they always had been. And this latest accident seemed to have broken down their last remaining restraints.

When Numbers pulled back, he began babbling, signing how he had set everything up with Fargo, IDed Malvo in a photo the deputy had with her, and given statements that they had been involved in a case of road rage gone wrong. Because Wrench was deaf, they were allowing Numbers to speak for the both of them. Fargo would be sending another team, seeing as Wrench would be out of commission for a while and Numbers would not be leaving his side. Fargo wasn't happy, but as this was their first real problem with an assignment, it came with empty threats that would soon be forgotten by both parties. Wrench's lung had partially collapsed and there was muscle damage, but they were assured that there would be no noticeably significant after affects for him as long as he didn't do anything too taxing for a while, which was just fine by both of them. Wrench smiled, only half paying attention. Numbers seemed to notice and took a deep breath, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"You ever do that again, and I'll be the one to kill you. You scared the hell out of me, you idiot."

Wrench just smiled tiredly at his partner and pulled him down back into a hug. He would get better in this warm bed, Numbers would be by his side, the storm was over, and Malvo was somewhere with a bullet in his leg and two more fresh hitmen on the way, ready to seek revenge for their injured colleagues. With any luck, they would be hearing about his untimely demise on the news. But for now, he just wanted to enjoy the feeling of Numbers' beard scratching at his collarbone as they settled in together. From now on, no more splitting up in snow storms, and no more Duluth. Although the kissing, he thought, could be a nice addition to their exploits.


End file.
